


Fragmentary Moon

by reikis



Series: Melody of the Reminiscing Star [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Depression, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Hurt, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reikis/pseuds/reikis
Summary: Excerpts of a broken man's life.
Series: Melody of the Reminiscing Star [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540690
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Fragmentary Moon

It was the same thing, over and over again.

Start another empire, conquer the land, introduce world-changing technology, leave a lineage, end one world, pass away, the empire crumbles.

Just how many years has he been going at this?

He lost track eons ago.

At times he completely forgets what Calamity they’re working for. All the aspects sort of just blended together now.

He wandered down the cold street, barely dressed for the weather the empire was so familiar with.

Another project of his. Another empire to raise and then raze.

He brought the hood of his light jacket up and headed into a bustling tavern, seeking a way to pass the night as to not entirely lose what sanity he had left.

* * *

The muscular Garlean topping him slammed his head into the pillows beneath, hands wrapped around his neck. He lowered his brows, shocked and confused by the emperor’s lack of fight.

_“Do whatever you please.”_

He truly meant those words when they had left his bruised lip.

“Do you have any clue what you have done to any of us!?”

The words meant nothing to him. Nothing did. Nothing in this whole star or its meager reflections. They were in one ear and out the other as the tanned man struck him across the face.

It was by no accident he walked the streets without disguise.

He barely registered the man resting his hands over his neck again and his vision darkened. He stared at the wall he had been forced into facing by the punch, feeling the blood rise to his cheek.

* * *

He rested a hand around his bandaged neck with low eyes. He let out a painful breath. Rather, it would be painful if he had not mentally blocked the feeling out. He hadn’t even reinforced this vessel. He wanted to feel the hurt, perhaps it would remind him he was alive.

But it didn’t.

He had become so accustomed to the overwhelming feeling of dread it threatened to consume him entirely. He felt nothing else, even physically. He could love no person, strive for no goal.

Truly, nothing mattered to him.

He didn’t care for his identity or image as the emperor. He didn’t even care for his own title. His own true name seemed like such a distant memory he barely held onto.

He was helpless. And hopeless.

Just how long ago did his mind start to drift like this? He had lost track throughout the seemingly endless years.

* * *

He stared at the Miqo’te climbing over him. They were so rare here, he had barely seen them in this current life. He ignored him digging his claws into his skin and running down it, easily drawing blood from his weak vessel. That too, he had long since ignored taking care of himself. He had taken the simple steps to make himself presentable, but his health was the last thing his mind drifted to.

The Miqo’te ran a claw under part of his gauze before bringing his lips close, biting into them.

* * *

He sat bare between the three Garleans, lithe body on display. He barely took the blanket beneath him into his grasp before one grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him into his friend before bringing up one of his legs.

The emperor stared dead-eyed as the man unceremoniously slid a few fingers into him, his friends’ hands making their way around his body and grabbing at him.

* * *

When did all this stop pleasing him?

He thought perhaps he could live his life out in pleasure, but...

There was nothing.

He had wondered if he could even get hard anymore.

He glanced up to the medication and first aid equipment his attendants had left for him from his spot in his bath. He sunk lower, nose barely above water level. It’s not like drowning would do much for him.

* * *

He collapsed on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He brought a shaking arm into view and grasped towards it. He would bite his lip if it had not been healing from a fresh cut.

He tried reaching for the aether around him, but it felt so weak. It wasn’t a matter of him forgetting how to use his magicks or his vessel lacking the ability.

No, he didn’t have the heart for it.

Suddenly, a knife appeared in his hand. It wasn’t an even blade. In fact, it was rusting along its cutting side. It felt like it would fall out of the wooden grip. His hands trembled violently as he brought it down to draw blood along his neck.

He didn’t so much as wince as the blood dripped onto the white sheets below.

* * *

He breathed in heavily, staring at nothing in particular with dark eyes. He was left with the room to himself, naked. His coat had been torn with a fight – well, it was more a beating since he had no resistance in him – and left on the floor alongside his clothes. His hands were bloodied and wrists red. He barely registered the dark aether pool in the room behind him and a certain white-robed Emissary exited the portal. He jerked to the side slightly as if to acknowledge his fellow Unsundered.

He could feel the wide, piercing – disappointed and horrified – gaze from beneath the Emissary’s red mask.

“Hades...”

The name felt foreign to him. He felt unnerved, if for a fleeting moment, by his usage of his true name instead of his title. A twang of familiarity in his dead soul.

He forced himself to move, closing his eyes. He let out a labored breath and met the Emissary’s with a glazed-over look to them. By Zodiark, the circles were even worse than normal. As if they carried the weight of the world, tears barely escaping the corners of his eyes.

“Elidibus... it’s pointless.”

He motioned as if to lift himself from the bed and was instead unconscious on the floor just a moment later.

* * *

He traced the patterns in the ceiling, a hand resting over his stomach. He ignored the gash in his arm, it leaking blood onto his pale skin. He closed his eyes, feeling for the semen escaping his ruined hole. He imagined his body was supposed to be protesting but he lacked the ability to feel the sensations. His nerves truly were as dead as he was.

* * *

He wandered down another snowy street, hair blowing side to side with the violent winds. He stopped and stared to the dark sky. Just as he did so long ago. It was one of the only memories that stayed with him after these eons. He raised a hand into the air, coat sliding off his lowered shoulder.

There was no point in fighting back the tears anymore.

* * *

His eyes fluttered open and he drew in a harsh breath. It burned his dry throat. He finally registered cold, gloved hands reaching around his bare shoulders and down his body. He glanced around, his vision coming to. It was dark, an alley? Snow drifted around them, fluttering onto his bloodied skin.

He didn’t protest when the tall figure found purchase under his knees and around his back and lifted him from the freezing stone. His actions were delicate in a way, avoiding placing pressure on his bruised body. He hadn't even registered the concerned gaze that rested beneath that red mask, the owner staring at the strangle marks left around his neck. He brought him close and the emperor felt something he hadn’t in years:

Warmth.

“Elidibus...”

His fellow’s name felt strange on his lips.

“Hades.”

Did the other Ascian only follow him around to remind him of his true name? As ever, the Emissary’s actions confused him. Or he was the biggest fool of all, thinking that somewhere, deep down, he had not given up yet. But that was wrong. He might as well have been a walking corpse seeking a final rest.

* * *

What goal was he even chasing anymore?

A distant dream of a reunited world where he would meet those he cared for once more? Everyone he had ever loved? Was that why he fought for so many years?

Pinning everything on the hope that would happen?

Hope.

Hope meant nothing to him anymore.

The Rejoining would never come to pass. Amaurot was a far-off memory.

Just how long ago did he give up and start letting the mortals do with him as they pleased? How many scars in this vessel alone have they given him? He was a plaything and not much else anymore. That was generous, he dryly mused. “Play” at least implied joy in either party.

There was nothing but bitter hatred in them and a void where his heart used to be in him.

The name of the all-powerful emperor had been dragged through the mud, eliciting terrible words among the citizens.

Even Zodiark was beginning to lose His grip on him, his mind slipping further and further from reality.

He was truly broken, waiting to be put down.

Maybe someday he would finally meet his end and he would be happy.


End file.
